Is There Anyone There?
by idevourbooks
Summary: Me. Troublemaker. Orphan. Unwanted. Alone. My temporary home. A mansion. Gothic. Large. Creepy. And quite possibly haunted.


**Author's Note:**

**Well, this came to me a while ago, and I just freaking love this idea, so here it is. I was having trouble with writing the next chapter for 'Waiting Here' (check it out if you haven't already ; )) so I decided to finish up this sweet thang for you guys since I felt bad I'm not updating - also, I needed some inspiration... anywho... don't expect this to be some long chapter that automatically has a ton of action, because guess what? It's the first chapter. They're ALWAYS slow (unless you're reading Percy Jackson or The Mortal Instruments) so just wait until the next chapter or two before just giving up on this since it's basically an introductory to the setting, characters, and plot (this also goes for every story, too).**

**WARNING: This is rated T for a reason! Some violence, language, and adult themes should be expected in this, so if your five... I don't know what to tell you, honestly.**

**ENJOY!**

**Chapter One**

The worst part is when you arrive.

No, it's not when you're sitting on your horrible excuse for a bed, hearing that unexpected, loud banging on your door before that even more of a horrible excuse for a social worker comes in and orders you to stuff your little belongings into that tiny, beat-up backpack you always used.

No, it's not when she (the social worker, whose name is Angel even though she's nothing of the sort) digs her long-ass nails – that should really be called claws – into your small, grimy wrist as she tugs you in her seven-inch, neon yellow stilettos through the streets of Crocus to the train station.

No, it's not when you have to sit in a train compartment with the narcissistic bitch for three hours and all you have to keep you from dying of boredom is the only book you own (which is by your favorite author, Kemu Zaleon) or gazing out the window as you see the city slowly crumble away from your very eyes as rolling hills take its place and dense forest taking that of the hills.

No, it's none of that. But it's the moment your battered, mud-stained, gum-covered soles of you converse step off of the train and you're bombarded by the sharp smell of pine needles and fresh, morning dew and all you see around you is a whole new world that makes you unsure about the fact if you really want to see it.

A feeling of regret settles in your stomach and you feel like crawling back into that crappy bed back at the orphanage that didn't seem so bad anymore, but you can't and reality hits you like a rush of water as those damn, fake nails of that demonic social worker dig back into the raw skin of your wrist and drag you towards a taxi, where she then shoves you inside and begins to give you an earful of how thankful you should be to her and how you should be kissing her feet for getting you this 'opportunity'.

If you're wondering why I know this, it's because I'm going through it this very second, and with every second that passes by I'm on the verge of either jumping out of the car or strangling that stupid, platinum haired bimbo who just won't _shut up_.

"You know," Angel starts, chewing on her gum like how a cow would chew on grass, "I worked very hard to find someone who would foster you." I roll my eyes in annoyance, _here we go again_, "The last time I got a foster family to take you in, they almost sued us because of that little shenanigan you pulled with lighting the house on fire. And how many years ago was that? Four?"

_Five_, I mentally chide in, having the need to correct the 'demon', "You're lucky someone said yes to you because trust me, with your record, no one would find it in their hearts to take you in. And it's even harder to get girls your age into a foster home – you don't see people allowing random seventeen year olds into their households, do you?"

"No ma'am," I robotically reply, before tuning out the rest of Angel's rant and resting my head on top of my hand that was pressed up against the cool, car glass.

I observe the trees passing by us in a blur of greens and browns with a growing curiosity and can feel my eyes widen in slight shock when a small town suddenly splays out before me. Apparently, we were on the main road as this was the only road I actually spotted people walking in and out of little hole-in-the-walls and grocery stores. A small smirk creeps onto my face as I spot a place called, '_The Book Corner_', which I could only guess was the sole library for miles around here.

Guess I know where I'm going after I ditch this foster home.

"-so don't do anything you'll regret because if you even _think_ about doing _anything_," without warning, Angel's scrunched up face is inches away from mine as she grasps my shoulders tightly, her nails practically breaking through the material of my sweatshirt as her threatening, brown eyes pierce my own, "_I will_ _have your head, ya' hear me?_"

I gulp and feverishly nod at the woman before me, watching as she narrows her eyes suspiciously at me before releasing my aching shoulders and sitting back in her seat, flipping her platinum hair carelessly behind her.

"Good, because we should be arriving soon and I will _not_ tolerate _any_ bad manners from you – even if it's in your nature to be rude, I don't care for _any_ of it, got it?"

I hum a response of accommodation as my attention drifts back towards the window where fat droplets of rain began to splatter against the glass and I was back to square one, staring at more woods. _Where the hell are we? I've never seen so many trees in my entire life…the East Forest? Clover, maybe?_

The taxi's engine whines like a blood hound as we come to a slow stop and I peek through the crack between the driver's seat and the side of the car to the windshield, where I see two large, rusting iron gates that were infested with dark green ivy.

The gates were connected to two, tall and thick, stone pillars that were also decorated with the ivy and they were what seemed like the beginning to a massive, stone wall that looked endless as it extended on either side of the gate for as far as the eye could see.

On the stone pillar to the left, the letters, '**EEL**', were engraved into the rock and were the only thing visible as the rest was hidden under the poisonous vines.

'_EEL'?_ I think, _'EEL' what? Is that part of the address or something? Maybe the property name…?_ Before I can delve any further into my wonderings, the scream of the rusty gates opening fills my ears mixed in with the howl of the taxi accelerating forward, driving us through the gates onto an unpaved road. The gates creak closed behind us and we are greeted by more forest, the lofty pines blocking out a majority of the gray sky so the rain splattered unevenly against the hood of the car.

I continue to gaze out, watching as the woods begin to thin and tall, unkept grass is in its place. In the distance I can see what appears to be a rundown garden, but I never get a good look at the patch of land as the car turns and my head whips around to see a massive, gothic mansion.

It looked a little worn out, its tall, stone walls collecting grime while the windows were just a tad dusty with a few black shingles looking as if loose on the roof. Its two black, front doors taunted me from a far, with large, gold lion knockers centered on each door and two elegant, golden handles and lock – or 'locks', I should really say.

There were at least fifteen keyholes drilled into the door, all different shapes and sizes lining the left door's side, yet they were all the same exact gold, all of them meant for keeping strangers out.

_Or to keep someone in_, the back of my mind whispers to me as I barely process Angel barking at me to get out of the car.

I unconsciously oblige to the 'demon's' orders and pull on the car door's sticky, plastic handle, stumbling out of the yellow cab onto a cobble stone pathway with my faded green, beat up backpack slung carelessly on my shoulders. I pull my black hood farther over my head to block out the rain as I look up at the mansion, peering up at the black, iron spires that sprouted from the apex of every conjoining rooftop of the two wings that extended off of the round center.

I felt small next to the mansion, small and insignificant, both two feelings I have grown all too familiar with over the years. I have to admit, I wasn't exactly feeling brave at the moment, if anything, I was scared – terrified, really. About what, I have no idea, but there was a dank feeling settling deep down in my stomach, and I couldn't place my finger on what it precisely was.

I gulp down my emotions before bringing my attention back down to the entrance of the house and clambering over to the steps leading up to the small, stone porch and before I even reach the first step, the purr of the taxi cab zooming away reaches my ears, leaving me to roll my eyes at the thought of my so-called, 'social worker' – all that woman was good for was nagging.

I sigh and shake the platinum haired wannabe out of my head, returning my attention back to the task at hand. I nibble anxiously on my bottom lip as I hesitantly lift up a clammy, pale hand to the provoking lion knockers, slowly wrapping my hand around the heavy handle and gently letting it fall against the wooden mane of the lion three times, hearing the loud thuds boom throughout the house as easily as if it were hollow.

I take a step back from the doors as shuffling sounds from behind them and not a moment later, a red eye appears from within one of the left lion's. I practically jump out of my skin; almost shrieking before realizing it was only a peep hole as an old, gravelly voice comes from the other side of the doors.

"Who are you and what do you want?" The disembodied voice orders roughly.

I let a small sigh of relief escape my lips before answering, "I'm Lucy," I state just as rough, "the foster kid."

The red eye shrinks a bit as the old lady squints at me with a suspicious glare gleaming in her eye, before a grunt comes from the other side and the eye disappears, replaced by the sound of the many locks sliding open.

The large doors then swing open, revealing a tall, dubious lady with wrinkles outlining her eyes and mouth, telling of a past filled with smiles and happy days, yet her cold, red eyes told of another time that came after and changed all that. She had her thin, cotton candy pink hair up in a tight bun at the top of her head, keeping it held together with a thin golden rod shoved into her bun with two crescent moons on each end.

Her long red skirt whirls around the bottom of her feet as she moves to the side to let me in, giving me the up-down as I take an unsure step forward onto the black and white marble flooring of the foyer.

The foyer, like the rest of the house, was colossal and looked as if it were once grand long ago, though not so much anymore as dust clung to the massive chandelier over our heads and the smell of ancientness clung to the inside of my nostrils with each breath I took.

The foyer was still beautiful, though; the entirety of the walls were covered with a paneled, dark cherry wood and the two grand staircases centered in the middle of the room were made of the same material. The staircases created a crescent-shaped passage underneath them, leading to yet another flight of stairs where I spot stained glass windows leaving colorful shadows against more marble floors. At the top of where the two staircases met, a large oil painting was hung on the wall, yet what was being portrayed was hidden behind the large tears on the canvas.

On my left and right there were entrances to the wings that branched off of the foyer, but I didn't go down either as the lady motioned for me to follow her up the stairs where I couldn't help but let my hand trail along the sleek, glossy, cherry handrails. The top of the stairs then led to two, vast hallways that looked similar to those in the foyer, and I push down the temptation to push up the tears in the large portrait that would reveal the painting as the lady continues down the left half of the long corridor. I quickly follow right behind her, taking in the mansion's beauty and details as she spoke to me.

"My name is Porlyusica," she declares monotonously, "and I expect you to respect the items in this household. I really do not care as to what you do, as long as you do not tarnish anything. There are a few rules I must put out here though," I roll my eyes, _rules… _I internally groan as she continues, partially tuning Porlyusica out as I become absorbed with the masterpieces hanging on the walls.

"Rule number one," she starts with a new firmness to her voice, "do not keep the library windows open. I don't care if it's stuffy in there, don't open the windows.

"Rule number two, lock your door before sleeping. This house does not have any kind of security system installed what-so-ever, so for your safety, please keep the door locked."

I almost snort – my 'safety', she says? Sure – like she'll ever care about what happens to Little Orphan Annie.

"Rule number three, don't go outside at night. I understand people of your age fancy the night for some odd reason, but please do not venture outside – I don't need anyone promoting witchcraft séances in the garden.

"Rule number four, restrain yourself from creating fires. This house is old, and if a spark touches the floor, we're all aflame before you can say 'lawsuit'.

"And lastly, rule number five," Porlyusica stops in front of a door on the right towards the end of the hall, turning on her heel to face me as her red eyes pierce mine with a thick layer of sternness clouding her eyes, with just a sliver of something else I've learned is called 'sincerity' mixed in, "do not sing. It may seem like a rule that will have no consequences if disregarded, but trust me, it's for the better of us all if we don't hear a single note escape those lips of yours."

I can feel the quizzical look pasted on my face as I simply nod at the woman before me, not saying a word as she motions for me to step inside the room we were stopped at.

I take a few unsure steps forward, a little thrown off by Porlyusica's peculiar requests (which I will most likely never comply to), and stride into a bright, light pink room. There was sunlight streaming in through the large windows placed all along one side of the room, where window seats were mounted along the sills of the crystal-clear windows, and a mini chandelier was hanging from the ceiling for when the sunlight couldn't provide light. A white, wooden desk sat right smack in the middle of the wall lined with windows and a matching dresser lay in the same position on the opposite side of the room as the desk. A mirror stood in the corner of the room, with a thick, yellowing tarp thrown over it to cover its reflective surface.

A king sized bed was pressed up against the wall (that, like the rest of the walls, was complete with white crown and foot molding) to my right with a rivulet white comforter spread across it along with pillows ranging from colors of cream to pink decorating the back of the bed. On either side there were two nightstands that were aesthetically carved to perfectly match the headboard and footboard of the bed with lovely, golden lamps placed on each one that were similar to the chandelier on the ceiling.

I gaze around me in wonder, feeling as if in a dream as I walk across the room to the windows, plopping my muddy, green backpack down on the desk's chair as I scrutinize the thick forest that seemingly started right outside the window. The forest was dead-silent and it was dark, the little sunlight barely squeezing through the small cracks the trees' braches formed.

It was all so alien to me. I was used to hearing subways rattling over my head and streetlamps lighting up the night like a parade, and a small, cramped room that held nothing besides a crappy twin bed. It was all so different, so unfamiliar… and yet, there was a part of me that felt as if I've been here before. Walked these halls, stared at these very woods, and even though I can't recall a time in my life when I have, my body felt at ease here, almost… familiar with the mansion.

I'm dragged out of my thoughts by Porlyusica, announcing that this was to be my room and that I was allowed to do as I pleased until eight when we were to have supper in the east wing's (which I can only guess is the wing I was currently in) dining hall. I feel disconnected as I curtly nod at her, staring into the brown orbs that peered back at me from my reflection in the window, searching for the answers to my thoughts and feelings, wondering why I felt as if this place was different than the rest of the foster homes.

I can barely hear Porlyusica leave the room as she moved just as quietly as a mouse, leaving me to ponder my thoughts by myself. There was a feeling in my chest, one that was warm – cozy, almost – and I found that I liked this new feeling. A small smile creeps onto my face as I let out a content sigh, my eyelids fluttering closed as I slowly lift my hands to pull my hood down and undo my messy blonde bun, feeling my knotty hair tumble down onto my shoulders. I cross my arms over my chest and allow my head to roll back in pure relaxation, before I feel my blood run cold as my heart stops.

Someone… had just touched my hair.

I fling my eyelids open and spin around, my hands clutching my hair defensively as my eyes frantically search the room around me, feeling my heart pound harder in my chest as I find out the terrifying truth – there was no one else in the room besides me.

**Author's Note:**

**And that's why you don't do drugs, kiddies. Anyways, I feel like this was a good first chappie, what do you guys think? Good? Bad? YOU DECIDE! (I feel so powerful when I do that XD) **

**Please favorite, follow, or leave a lovely review (constructional criticism is welcome) because you guys influence me to continue doing what I love! Which is write!**

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**Peace!**

**-idevourbooks **


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